


The Name Game

by chronicAngel



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, POV Third Person, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: He does not know what he is actually supposed to say now that he has his dad's attention. A part of him didn't expect to get this far. His eyes flick to the headline of the newspaper--Bruce Wayne buys Metropolis' Daily Planet from Lex Luthor!-- and then back to his father's face, and his mouth just hangs open dumbly. His father's eyebrows are furrowed in concern. Eventually, something like clarity passes over his expression and Tim dreads whatever he is about to say because he is positive it will be totally wrong. "Is this about boys?" He says.Tim chokes on his own spit.





	The Name Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InvaluableOracle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvaluableOracle/gifts).



> I know you've been having a tough time the last few days so I wrote this up for you real quick. Sorry if it's a little sloppy, I sort of threw it together last minute. Tim's dead name here is fully stolen from Ella's fic [Bat Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746127), which is wonderful and if you haven't read it you absolutely should.

The morning of Tim's thirteenth birthday, he decides to come out to his father. "You know, lots of Reform Jewish boys choose a Hebrew name at their Bar Mitzvah on their thirteenth birthdays," he says casually at breakfast, which doesn't make any sense because he isn't any sort of Jewish and as far as his father is aware, he is not a boy.

"That's nice, sweetie," his father says, still staring at the newspaper, and Tim pokes at his pancake rather than eating it.

"Can we... talk, for once? Like a normal family at breakfast?" This isn't what he means to say, but it's what spills out. His father glances over the top of the newspaper for a moment, raising his eyebrows, and then folds it up.

He does not know what he is actually supposed to say now that he has his dad's attention. A part of him didn't expect to get this far. His eyes flick to the headline of the newspaper-- _Bruce Wayne buys Metropolis' Daily Planet from Lex Luthor!_ \-- and then back to his father's face, and his mouth just hangs open dumbly. His father's eyebrows are furrowed in concern. Eventually, something like clarity passes over his expression and Tim dreads whatever he is about to say because he is positive it will be totally wrong. "Is this about boys?" He says.

Tim chokes on his own spit.

"No!" He eventually makes out around a strangled noise, forcing himself to breathe. "No, it's not about boys." He pauses, then rubs at his forehead as though to stave off the migraine already threatening to strike. "At least, not in the way you think it is," he adds, trying not to let out a long-suffering sigh. His father only looks more confused and he doesn't want to have to explain this.

They've never been particularly close. When he was a very little kid, he got along much better with his mother, and then she passed away and he was alone. His father tries his best, he thinks, but he's always been the globetrotting businessman who left Tim with someone else to watch him for weeks or months at a time while he was on business trips. Even beyond that... "Jacqueline, you can tell me anything."

 _Even beyond that, he's trying his best for a daughter he doesn't have_ , Tim thinks, wincing. "I..." He starts, only there's the biggest lump in his throat and his father has that stupid look of concern which just makes him want to cry even though neither of them has said much of anything. He stares at his pancakes as though they'll somehow make him braver. "I don't want to be called Jacqueline anymore," he says, clenching his fists in his lap and digging his nails into his palms. His father chuckles and his stomach twists, so he spits out before he can change his mind, "I'd like it if you called me Tim!"

It's so rushed that he worries for a moment his father won't even understand it, dragging his eyes up from his breakfast to his dad. His face is frozen mid-laugh, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, laugh lines still deep in his forehead despite how frankly horrified he looks. "So what, are you some kind of transgender or something?"

He feels sick. _Some kind of transgender_ , as though he's a completely different species now. He might as well have walked up to his father and said he found out he was an alien and he was going to return to his home planet. "I'm still me, dad," he says, voice trembling. It's so close to a whisper, but he can see on his dad's face that he heard him because it morphs into something between sympathy and pain.

"Of course it's still you, sweetheart," he says, pulling Tim into a hug that feels practiced somehow, and he does not want to tell him that being called sweetheart makes him uncomfortable just yet. _Baby steps_ , he thinks. Tim sniffs, realizes that he's crying, and lets out a hot, shaky breath against his father's coveted Adam's apple as the old man rests his chin on top of his head. "It's just... it's a little weird for me. Tim is such a... such a different name from Jacqueline, you know? Like, how did you choose that? Couldn't you just have chosen Jack, like your old man?" Tim's pretty sure he hears somewhere in there an _It would have been easier to explain to the papers_. After a minute, his dad pulls away a little and sighs. "I wish you would have told me sooner. I mean, I've had a daughter for thirteen years."

Tim's stomach twists again and he winces. "Dad," he says slowly, sure he's treading into dangerous water. "I've always been a boy. Just because I used to wear dresses and keep my hair long doesn't mean I was girl. I was just... I was still figuring it out then." He doesn't know if this is the right way to explain it, but his dad doesn't look quite so confused anymore so he considers it a small victory.

Jack squints at Tim for a minute like he's trying to pick out small details in his face that should have signaled to him earlier that he had a son all along. Eventually, seemingly giving up on his mission, he asks, "When did you know?"

He tenses and then sighs. _I'm not going to make it to the end of this interaction if I'm constantly wincing and stressing. I just need to calm down. He's my dad. I have to trust him to let me talk to him about this_ , he thinks, but he's still not fully convinced. "It doesn't really work like that," he says. All over again, his dad looks like he has just been presented with one of the Riddler's puzzles. "Well, when did you know you were a boy, Dad?"

"I don't think there was ever an epiphany, kiddo." He chuckles. Tim appreciates the avoidance of his given name. Then, as though the reason why Tim asked this question has just dawned on him, his face changes into something resembling understanding. "Oh." He says rather lamely.

They're silent for a long time while Jack processes and Tim waits for him to process. He can't imagine how hard it is to look at your kid and learn that they're completely different from what you've thought they were their whole life. His dad has never been the sort of doting parent who planned out his daughter's future wedding and debated princess cut or mermaid cut for the dress, but he's sure the change in name must be mind-boggling for him. It must be a real adjustment to look at your kid and think _Tim_ instead of _Jacqueline_. He only hopes his dad can put in the effort.

Finally, after the silence has stretched on awkwardly long, Tim debates the merits of dumping his pancakes, now cold, into the trash and laying down in his room. He doesn't really have an appetite anymore, anyway, the nerves of coming out having killed that long ago. "So..." His dad starts, apparently having realized that he has been quiet for too long. "You're really serious about this boy thing?" He asks, and Tim feels his gut clench painfully. All he can do is nod, not sure how to respond verbally that he would never pull a prank about something as serious as this.

 _Is it that hard for you to understand that I'm your son_? He thinks, chewing on his lip. His father nods and then his eyes go unfocused like he is truly lost in thought. Almost managing to sound absentminded, he says, "Okay, Tim."


End file.
